


build your house

by somnambulants



Series: pick up the pieces (go home) [1]
Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnambulants/pseuds/somnambulants
Summary: Mallory is sixteen the day she accidentally sets the curtains in her living room on fire. It also marks the day that she ceases to exist to either of her parents.She’s sixteen and a half when she runs away, and she doesn’t look back once.





	build your house

**Author's Note:**

> can't believe Foxxay officially adopted Mallory in the finale like can u guys believe!!!!!! I love that for them!!!
> 
> title from Sara by Fleetwood Mac

Mallory is sixteen the day she accidentally sets the curtains in her living room on fire. It also marks the day that she ceases to exist to either of her parents. 

She’s sixteen and a half when she runs away, and she doesn’t look back once.

\--

Cordelia Foxx – _Goode_ , she corrects Mallory gently when she uses the former – is the supreme of the coven. Mallory likes her from the second she sees her. 

Cordelia smiles as they both sit down in her office. “So, what brings you to us?” 

“I saw the academy on TV,” Mallory doesn’t lift her eyes from the floor, feeling a little ashamed of the way her voice cracks. “My parents, they …” 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Cordelia’s voice has turned soft. The sincerity in her eyes rings through her words as she adds: “I just hope this will feel like a home for you now.”

\--

The most surprising thing is that Mallory finds that she actually _likes_ the lessons at the academy. 

Her personal favourite is botany in the greenhouse. She likes the thrill of watching the plants flourish; of feeling something coming to life under her hands. She likes learning.

It takes time to adjust, though: using magic with no consequences. She struggles at first. 

“Stop pushing so hard,” Cordelia’s voice beside her makes her start in surprise. She looks over to see her watching her. “It makes it more difficult if you overthink it.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” Mallory says, her anxiety spiking. When she glances around her, she sees all the other girls are doing it with ease. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Then you’ll try again.”

At her words, Mallory nods, inhaling and relaxes a little. She reaches inside herself, trying to harness that little part of her that she’s been supressing for so long as she extends her hand out toward the plant.

And, after almost a minute of trying, the leaves start to turn green just ever so slightly. There’s still a brown tinge to them, but they look more alive than they had before. 

The feeling it gives her is exhilarating. 

“I did it,” Mallory breathes out, grinning so wide that her face starts to hurt.

Cordelia returns her smile. "It just takes patience," she says.

\--

Out of everything, she thinks she loves the greenhouse the most. There’s just something about it; she feels at _home_ there. 

At night sometimes, when she can’t sleep, she goes out there and tries out her newfound ability of resurgence on the plants. Tonight is one of those nights.

Her gift of resurgence isn’t particularly strong – not yet, anyway -- but the thrill Mallory gets from bringing the life back to something is worth the patience it takes her to get there.

She’s tending to one of the small herb bushes, when the greenhouse door creaks open, breaking the silence. 

Heart skidding to a halt, Mallory freezes.

“Mallory?” Cordelia pulls the door shut behind her, brow furrowing in confusion as she spots her. “What are you doing out here so late?”

Mallory tells her half the truth. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Cordelia says. The expression on her face is almost like she understands as she places a hand on her shoulder. “How about you help me? I need to make a few things tonight.”

At some point, Mallory comes across a plant she’s never seen before. 

“What’s this?” she reaches out and, lightning fast, Cordelia grabs her hand before she can touch it. 

“Poisonous,” she says, with a look that is appropriately scolding. “It’s called Belladonna.”

Cordelia lets her go and Mallory drops her hand down but leans in to get a closer look at the plant. “Belladonna?... Like the song?”

At her question, something flickers across Cordelia’s face but it disappears too quickly for her to identify properly. “Exactly,” she says.

The smile she gives her doesn’t reach her eyes, though, and Mallory silently spends the rest of the night trying to work out what she'd said wrong. 

 

\--

As she approaches her office one night, she can hear Cordelia’s voice faintly, talking to someone, and the sound of footsteps as someone paces inside. 

Outside the door, she hesitates.

“Four years, Myrtle,” Cordelia is saying quietly. Mallory shifts a little, so she can peak into the room and watch them. “I thought it wouldn’t still feel like this.”

With her back to her, Mallory can’t see Myrtle’s face, but she can hear her speak as she says: “It never leaves us, Delia. What happened to dear Misty was a great injustice.”

At the mention of the name, Mallory notices Cordelia’s face start to crumple. “I wish I could go back,” she says, so quietly Mallory has to strain to hear her. “I think about it every day.”

Clucking gently, Myrtle envelops her in her arms as Cordelia’s shoulders start to tremble in earnest. “I know,” Myrtle says. “But we mustn’t let ourselves dwell on impossibilities.”

Silently, Mallory backs up and walks back to her room.

\--

“Who’s Misty?” 

Mallory is the first in the classroom, as per usual, and has been waiting almost fifteen minutes for Zoe to walk into the room.

The second she blurts out the question, Zoe freezes and her smile drops. “Where’d you hear that name?” 

“Nowhere,” Mallory says quickly, stuttering over the word as Zoe raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know.”

“Misty was … she was a witch,” Zoe says, after a second and the look on her face turns a little sad. “She lived here at the academy a few years ago.”

 _“Was?”_ Mallory asks.

“Yes,” Zoe says, voice firm. _“Was._ And please don’t bring her up around Cordelia, alright?”

The look on her face invites no arguments. Mallory looks down at the desk in front of her and quietly agrees. 

\--

The whole ‘not bringing it up’ thing doesn’t last long.

She notices the photo one day when she’s in Cordelia’s office, waiting around for her so she can ask her about one of the more difficult incantations in one of her textbooks. 

The frame is sitting on one of the shelves behind Cordelia’s desk. 

She picks it up, inspecting it. She's never seen the woman in the photo before, but she has a gut feeling she knows exactly who she is.

“I’m sorry, I’m late, I just –” Cordelia trails off as she spots the frame in Mallory’s hand. Something flashes across her face and Mallory freezes.

“I – I’m sorry, I just saw it on the shelf and I…”

Cordelia waves her off, smiling. It doesn’t reach her eyes though. She extends her hand out for the photo and Mallory hands it over nervously. “It’s alright, Mallory.”

She walks behind the desk and places it back on the shelf. 

“Who is that?” Mallory asks. 

It’s barely noticeable, but Cordelia’s smile falters a little as she sits down at her desk. Mallory sits down across from her. “She is – _was_ – a very dear friend of mine.”

“Misty,” Mallory blurts out, not even realising she’s said it until Cordelia’s eyes dart up to hers, looking taken aback. 

“How did you -?”

Mallory looks down at her hands. “I’ve just…heard people talk about her sometimes.” 

She doesn’t tell her about the time she’d seen her and Myrtle in her office all those months ago. 

She fidgets nervously. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bought it up.”

Cordelia doesn’t seem to hear her. “She would have liked you, Mallory,” she says, suddenly sounding far away, like she’s thinking of something else entirely. “You remind me so much of her, sometimes.”

Mallory bites her lip, wishing there was something comforting she could offer in response. Wracking her brain, she finally settles on: “I’m sure that I would have liked her too.”

After that, she never sets foot in Cordelia’s office when she’s not in it again and the door stays firmly shut.

Mallory never forgets that conversation, though. 

\--

Madison Montgomery is the single most intimidating person she’s ever met. 

“Yes. I _am_ Madison Montgomery,” she announces the second she strolls into the room.  
When Mallory looks around at the others, she’s relieved to find she’s not the only one afraid to make eye contact. 

To Mallory’s horror, her eyes somehow find her, half hidden behind Coco. She smirks. “So, _this_ is swamp witch 2.0?”

The witch beside her coughs into her hand to hide her laugh; a joke Mallory obviously isn’t on. 

Cordelia disregards them both completely, acting as though Madison hadn’t spoken at all. “Girls, this is Madison and Queenie. They’re both previous students of mine.”

Still snickering, Queenie wiggles her hand at them in greeting. Unimpressed, Madison just looks them all up and down. 

\--

She doesn’t want to be the supreme.

Tonight, in particular, it keeps her up , thinking about all the possible ways she might be able to get out of it.

Eventually, frustrated, she slips out her room and tries to be as quiet as possible as she sneaks out to the greenhouse. 

She doesn’t bother with the plants too much tonight. She just sits at the bench in the middle of the room, and half-heartedly runs her hand over a sapling that still hasn’t quite taken off. 

It takes a while, but eventually it starts to flourish under her fingers. She’s careful not to go too far, lest it turn back into a seed, which, as she had learned, was all too easy to do if you weren't paying attention. 

“Mallory?” Cordelia’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and she turns her head to find her in the doorway. She doesn't look particularly surprised to find her in here, used to it by now. 

Mallory looks at her for a second, taking in the only mother figure she’s ever really felt she’d had. “I don’t want to be the supreme, Cordelia,” she says in a rush. “I really don’t.”

Surprise flickers across Cordelia’s face, before her expression settles into something that looks like understanding. 

She approaches where Mallory’s sitting and takes a seat next to her, now smiling wryly. “Unfortunately, supremacy doesn’t consider what we want. It would be nice, though.”

“I don’t want it,” Mallory repeats, weaker. “Not if it means…”

Face softening, Cordelia scoots over to pull her into her arms. “I know,” she says, gently. “I know.”

Neither of them say anything more. 

From then on, she practices. Every spare second. 

Maybe it’s stupid of her, but she’s holding onto the hope that if she can learn how to control her powers better, then maybe she’ll be able to bring Cordelia back; maybe she won’t have to die for her to become the supreme, maybe she can -- 

She’s upstairs when she hears the gunshots go off. 

Immediately, Cordelia and Myrtle stand up. Chaos erupts from underneath them.

The hope Mallory has been clinging to starts to fade.

\--

The identity spell envelops her quickly in a rush of warmth and memories of the academy – of magic -- start to fade away in broad strokes, like plucking pegs from a clothesline. She sees them for a second and then when she blinks, they’re gone. 

The last thing she feels is Coco tightening her grip on her hand and then there’s nothing.

\--

She’s in an overpriced salon, being belittled by her boss and a _hairdresser_ when the world ends. 

Less than an hour later, she’s looking out a plane window, on the way to salvation, with Coco and the hairdresser _and_ the hairdresser’s grandmother, watching as bombs fall and wipe out all of the world’s remaining population in a matter of seconds.

The lucky few of them still alive live underground for a year. 

Then _he_ arrives. 

Mallory doesn’t know why, but the second Michael Langdon walks into the outpost, her skin starts to crawl.

\--

The memories are returned to her so quick, one after the other, she quickly starts to feel disoriented by them all. 

She can’t make sense of anything she remembers. It’s like some big, complicated puzzle and she has all the pieces, she just doesn’t know _where_ they all fit.

Beside her, Coco is now apologising to her profusely and Mallory doesn’t understand _why_. Dinah is silent, gazing at them all with reproachful eyes.

The woman kneels down beside them. She’s so familiar. Mallory _knows_ her. 

She _knows_ she knows her. 

“What’s going on?”

“Do you remember me?” the woman asks gently. 

Mallory is about to shake her head, but then an unfamiliar name pops up in her mind, refusing to budge. “Cordelia?”

The woman – _Cordelia_ smiles. 

The rest of Mallory’s missing memories start to knit themselves back together. 

\--

She remembers very little of what happens after Brock stabs her, but what she does remember is this: 

the water feels like ice.

Everything hurts.

Knelt down next to her, Cordelia strokes her hair away from her face. 

“Mallory,” she says gently. Mallory gazes up at her, watching her face blur in and out as she borders the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. “I need you to stay awake while I take care of this. Can you do that for me?”

Mallory doesn’t even have the strength to move her fingertips, but she somehow must manage to make some sign of affirmation because Cordelia is suddenly gone.

Downstairs, it’s unearthly silent. 

All Mallory can hear is her own laboured breathing and the water around her as it moves.  
   
She’s alone. 

Not even realising she’d closed them, her eyes snap open at the sound of a whisper: _please, Mallory, keep your eyes open, you’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you --_

All of a sudden, she feels the life surge back into her. She jerks upright, gasping for air, the incantation she’d memorised already rolling off her tongue.

She falls down, down, _down._

The voice disappears. 

\--

(The apocalypse happens. They all perish. Everything that could possibly come to pass, does. 

And then it doesn’t.

In the middle of nowhere, Mallory washes the blood off her hands and then steps out of the gas station bathroom to make her way back home.

The first thing she does when she reaches the outskirts of New Orleans is call in a favour.)

**Author's Note:**

> so I was writing something else (which is still to come eventually as part 2) abt Foxxay and their new child but as I was writing it, I was like wow wonder what Mallory was thinking throughout the entire season since she had no personality for 9 episodes and yeah
> 
> this is also on Tumblr[here!](http://somnambulants.tumblr.com/post/180405619891/build-your-house) let me know your thoughts!


End file.
